


Last Friday Night

by TenThousandBlueFeathers



Category: NCIS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 16:24:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenThousandBlueFeathers/pseuds/TenThousandBlueFeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Shiva, post-return from Israel recovery fluff</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Friday Night

Fornell let himself in. The foyer was dark, and he headed down the hall to where the basement door stood ajar, light shining through the crack in the door. 

“Agent Fornell?”

Tobias nearly jumped out of his skin as he passed the living room and McGee’s head popped up from where he was sprawled on the floor.

“McGee! What the hell!” He stopped and turned to take in the darkened living room. Four pairs of eyes reflected back at him, catching the dim glow of the western playing on the tiny tv in the corner. “What the hell?” He muttered again.

Abby grinned at him, her smile lighting up like the cheshire cat in the darkness. She looked to be holding a handful of barrettes, and judging by McGee’s guilty expression and the awkward tilt to his head, he had been her first victim. “Nice to see you again, Special Agent Fornell!”

He grunted. Tony and Ziva had managed to spread out over the entire couch and were nursing the remains of the six-pack he had been planning on drinking tonight. He’d stocked the damn fridge with it himself.

Tony was eyeing him with barely concealed amusement. “Business or pleasure?” He asked, eyebrow raised.

Tobias glared at him, then at the empty beer bottles, then back at him. “That was _my_ beer, DiNozzo. Mine.”

“We can run out and get more,” McGee volunteered, starting to rise. His hair looked ridiculous with those little plastic butterflies sticking up all over the place.

“Knowing you, you’ll sleep with it before you get back,” Fornell grumbled.

McGee blushed. “Sir, I really think if you just let me explain what happened with Diane-”

“Diane?! Are you two on a first name basis now?” He threw his arms up and stomped to the door of the basement. He flung it open to find Gibbs standing on the top step.

“Jesus, Tobias, you’re gonna give yourself a stroke,” he said as he pushed past him and into the kitchen.

“Do you know that you have a living room full of-” he glanced through the doorway to see the four of them staring at him, grinning. Abby waved. “-of children! In your house! Drinking MY beer!”

“I thought it was mine,” Gibbs said mildly.

“Rule #5!” Tony called from the other room.

“Mmm...don’t waste good,” Ziva agreed, taking a long sip before shaking her drink gently in Fornell’s general direction. 

The doorbell rang and Abby popped up. “Pizza’s here!” She grabbed a pile of rumpled bills from the coffee table and practically skipped to the door. 

“You grinding your teeth again, Tobias?” Gibbs asked. 

“You said burgers, and I got the damn burgers,” he growled, holding up a grease-soaked bag.

“You really should not be eating that,” Ziva scolded as she stepped around them to put a handful of bottles into the recycling. “I left a salad for you in the fridge, Gibbs.”

“I’m not eating salad!” Fornell glared at her retreating back. “I’m not married. That means I don’t have to eat salad ever again if I don’t want to!”

“Relax,” Gibbs said, grabbing the bag out of the smaller man’s clenched fist and taking a couple of plates from the cupboard. He opened the bag and

“I can’t believe we’re being banished to the basement in your own house,” Fornell grumbled. 

“I like my basement,” Gibbs said over his shoulder as he descended the stairs.

“I’m just saying-”

“Leave it alone, Tobias.”

From above them, the sounds of banging cupboards and arguments over previously agreed upon toppings could be heard. Laughter filtered down to where the men sat eating in companionable silence. Gibbs emptied a jar of screws and filled with a generous finger of whisky and handed it to Fornell. He grunted his thanks and swallowed it in one gulp.

He watched as his friend filled it again. He wondered how old Kelly had been when she’d made that sweatshirt. Judging by the size of the handprints, he guessed six. Emily had made enough hand printed items of her own over the years that he had gotten careless with them. Broke the plate. Lost the framed card. He’d have to look for that when he got home.

He leaned in to grab a couple of fries off of Gibb’s plate as the sound of glass breaking above prompted them both to look toward the stairs.

“McGee!”

“You pushed me, Tony!”

“Get the broom, probie.”

After a moment, the door opened and McGee stuck his head in. “Uh, Boss, sorry to bother you but-”

“Hall closet,” Gibbs said, finishing his burger before wiping his hands on a rag.

“Thanks,” he said. They listened as his footsteps faded away.

Fornell raised an eyebrow. “So, you going to tell me what’s happening? I mean, what are they all doing here?”

Gibbs shrugged and toyed with a piece of sandpaper for a moment before beginning to smooth the hull currently residing in his basement. “It’s been a tough...month,” he said, drawing his hand back and forth methodically.

Tobias waited. “That’s it?”

“Isn’t it enough?”

He thought about it for a long moment. Above them, Abby sounded like she was marshalling McGee into meticulous glass retrieval. “Is Tony singing...is that Annie Lennox?”

Gibbs shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

“‘Walking on broken glass.’ You don’t know that song?”

“No.”

“It’s kind of funny, Jethro.”

“Are you going to help me or just stand there letting DiNozzo serenade you?”

“Hey, I’m not the one babysitting a bunch of teenagers on a Friday night,” Tobias muttered as he brushed the dust off his slacks and grabbed a well-worn sheet of sandpaper.

Gibbs grunted. “Rule 8.”

“Always carry a knife?”

“That’s 9.”

“Oh,” Fornell scratched his cheek. “I can never keep your damn rules straight. What’s 8 again?”

Gibbs paused. He glanced up at the ceiling. “Rule 8, Tobias? Never take anything for granted.”


End file.
